She was still savoring the peace when a blur of motion caught her eye and she looked up to see a messenger, marked as such by his satchel. The man lowered his gaze as he approached, and Aisha noticed his shoulders tense as he brushed past her. It was not until he was on the stairwell that he visibly relaxed. Aisha watched him disappear without comment. She was accustomed to this type of encounter; those who knew her kept their guard up. She supposed it was for the better, as she preferred avoiding conversation with spineless fools when possible.
Still, she pictured what it might be like to wander these halls as a visitor rather than a thief—to be catered to rather than avoided.
She let the musing evaporate as she started back the way she’d come, heading down the stairwell and back to the ground floor. As she strode down the corridor in the direction of the thieves’ hideout, she was aware of every flicker of light and motion. She didn’t miss the servants who shrank away from her or the soldiers who glared at her with open hostility. And she did not miss the footsteps trailing hers—the tread that was as familiar to her as her own breathing.
She didn’t so much as flinch when Omar fell into step beside her, appearing from gods knew where. He did that sometimes—appeared suddenly from the shadows like some wraith. It irked her that she couldn’t always hear him.
“I’m not delivering any more godsdamned messages for you,” Aisha muttered.
Omar clucked his tongue. “I take it the qaid didn’t receive the news well?”
“Working under him is going to be hell.”
Omar flashed a pleasant smile at her. Even in the darkness, it was dazzling. “Then it’s a good thing you won’t be one of the people I assign to his security force.”
Aisha turned away with a grumble. “I’d stab you in the throat if you tried to shove me into that uniform. Is this infiltration really necessary?”
Omar chuckled. “It’s not an infiltration if everyone but the qaid consents to it. You know as well as I the failings of Madinne’s security. My own brother was assaulted by a jinn in the souk today, you know.”
A jinn you ought to have killed, she thought, but didn’t voice the opinion. Omar’s tortuous games had never appealed to her. She preferred to kill her targets on sight, with as little struggle as possible. There was little point in playing with something that wound up dead.
“Your idiot brother walked into the souk of his own accord.”
Another laugh from Omar. “You don’t find his little ventures courageous?”
“I find them foolish.”
They were walking through the orchard now, down a path that shot past trees heavy with apples and oranges. Dimly lit lanterns hung from some of the branches, coating the ground in a hazy light that made the grass shimmer. It looked, Aisha thought, like it was covered in dew.
She plucked a golden apple from a branch in passing and tossed it absently between her palms. “What do you want from me, sayyidi?”
Omar blinked at her with faux innocence. “What, can I not simply enjoy your company?”
“Don’t flatter me. You do not enjoy someone else’s company without an ulterior motive.” She bit into the apple, wrinkled her nose at the tartness. When Omar flexed his fingers at her, she was more than happy to toss it to him.
“How foolish of me.” The prince held the apple up. Its color was dulled in the moonlight. “I should know better than to attempt casual conversation with you.” He bit into it, putting the conversation on hold.
They walked the rest of the way to their hideout in companionable silence, following the path to the outer palace wall and then to an unassuming tower that stood sentinel at its southeast corner. The building was a shadow amongst the pale minarets, an ominous-looking place that leaned so heavily against the wall, it looked in danger of crumbling over it.
Ostentatious locations make for the best hiding places, Omar had once told her when she asked why he’d situated their base here. He claimed it was easier to keep secrets from nobles who consciously avoided them than from the curious commoners who hero-worshipped them.
Aisha didn’t care about any of that. There was a door on this side of the palace wall they could use to slip covertly out into the city, and that was all that mattered. The less time she had to spend walking through this gold-plated trap, the happier she was.
She turned to Omar expectantly. The prince was twirling the apple core by its stem, lips upturned slightly. “You want to know why I’m following you? Guilt.”